


Spinnerette's Pain in the Ass

by DanglyBit



Category: RYV, Renew Your Vows, Spider-Man - Fandom
Genre: A2M, Anal, Anal creampie, Catharsis, Dirty Language, F/M, Love, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, but mostly just anal, facesitting, just anal everywhere, lots of anal, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9145963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanglyBit/pseuds/DanglyBit
Summary: Synopsis: The happily married wife of Peter Parker has a few problems, but hardly any worth complaining about. A superpowered child, a superpowered husband, and the fate of satisfying her husband’s ridiculous sexual appetite… Who ever said that being married left you vanilla? MJ would say being married to Peter Parker left you full, and with a hard time sitting down.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spinnerette’s Pain the Ass (if you fuck a Spider-Woman in her webhole, does that count as Anal?)

P.Parker/M.J.W.Parker (ALL THE LOVE) (Nah for real, this is what happens when you mix a love of anal with a love of heartwarming soul-satisfying sex. And Spider-Man fucking his wife like he doesn't want to break her, but doesn't care if she ends up never sitting, shitting, or walking straight in her life a-fucking-gain, God bless America, you anal aficionado loving fucks) (God bless Vanilla, and Spider-Man motherfucking the fucking mother of his little redheaded spider-child. I'm fucking done.)

* * *

 

Mary Jane Watson-Parker loved her husband and her daughter more than anything in the world. Unfortunately, Peter’s determination was a dominant trait. His daughter, Anna May Parker, refused to go to school without giving him a hug. It said a lot about him as a father.

Peter Parker himself father refused to leave his wife behind – they were a team. This would have been heartwarmingly romantic to MJ… if it didn’t also include the caveat that he couldn’t leave her behind – not without blowing a fat wad of his goo in one of her holes.

Unfortunately, his latest favorite place ended up being MJ’s nadir, her lowest point, the bottom of her barrel, and all around the ass end of her problems. Chiefly because it’s the area that now played warmer to her husband’s schlong.

This day had started like any other in this golden point in her life. Her daughter had woken up, and then MJ had woken up, and then Peter was still asleep… for the most part. The thick slab of meat between his legs was sliding between MJ’s asscheeks in his sleep, and was the only reason why she’d woken up with frightened, wide open eyes. That was his way of showing he loved her, she supposed.

She was still in her prime, much like her husband, and she had to be if she wanted to keep up with him and his body. Sharing his abilities only helped that. With the birth of their child her breasts had gotten larger and fuller, and it was always a bemusing thing to see Peter so preoccupied with suffocating himself between her perky titflesh like a hormonal teenager as she bounced in his lap,  even though she’d coo and say it was all for him. Not as bemusing as having him tuck in between her asscheeks and drive her crazy until he finally decided to stick it to her like a stuck pig, and she’d squeal.

Her hips had gotten wider and MJ had lost her ideal supermodel curves, but Peter was never complaining. Before, she had a lithe hourglass figure. Now however, the only thing that could accurately describe MJ’s body was the acronym MILF. Because that’s what she was, and MJ annoyedly, gratefully, wistfully and ruefully considered herself lucky that her husband thought she was the mother of his child he’d like to fuck.

But ‘fuck’, that was a very accurate term. With great powers came great durability, and Peter took advantage. With his powers split between them he didn’t have to hold back to prevent destroying her with his strength, and MJ didn’t have the ignorant bliss of not knowing what it was like, having her husband’s fat dick plunder her twat until she was stuffed full of almost babies, caught behind a stretched thin membrane of rubber that ballooned her up like a stuffed turkey. It was what he’d do to her ass that couldn’t be described as love-making in any sense of the word, at least not by her. Fuck was accurate because it was hard to describe his cock scraping behind her ovaries, asking permission to inseminate her large intestine like it’d give him another wonderful child, as love-making. And that morning, it was more of the same. Mary Jane Parker was a good wife.

Peter wasn’t asleep for long, not with the way she had been moaning and whimpering into her pillow. Annie was awake, already brushing her teeth, probably half dead-to-the-world like her father would be at this point of the day. A surge of panic went through Mary Jane as Peter’s cock prodded her balloonknot through his boxers and her panties – couldn’t see this, couldn’t _hear_ them like this. She just couldn’t. It was stretching it enough that Peter could barely keep his hands off his daughter’s mother when she was around already, but-

And he was already starting to stretch her panties thin, too, sending them on a one way course up her pipes with the insistent, less loving and more fucking-pressure of his cock, damning any obstacle in his way.  Their bedroom door was open and the thought of being seen by anyone mortified MJ, despite the fact that she ran around in a skin tight suit that did nothing to hide just how soft and marshmallow-y her ass and tits were (it wasn’t as if she could wear a bra – they chafed).

It mortified her so much, in fact, that she came up with a split-second plan: she swiped the panties away just enough to reveal her confused, somewhat scared but resigned hole, and speared herself right onto her husband’s cock. _Not_ because she liked having his big dick all the way up her ass, or that the thought of his ballslime drooling out of her all day made her fingers frig herself in a frenzy, but just because she needed to get him off before they traumatized their little girl for life.

It was her duty as his wife, his other half, to bend over when he asked, stick her ass in the air, and get taken to pound-town with the hole she shit from, just so her husband, her wonderful, heroic husband, wouldn’t suffer from overly full balls. Mary Jane Parker was a good wife and mother.

She also feared that, if he got her pregnant again, her body would only get more fertile, more motherly, so in a way… getting her asspipe gummed up with his babybatter was probably the better option, if she valued being able to sit down at least a little. And she did.

Peter had worshipped her before, dreamt of her, cooed to her, but what he had been before was an avid fan in comparison. He was a devoted worshipper now, a lieutenant for her body. Barely a day went by that he wasn’t against her, pinning her against the wall either with webbing or just by holding her hands in his large ones, and, she’d inevitable spread her legs and it’d begin all over again. In the bathroom, in the tub, in the kitchen, on a wall, on the ceiling, on a low rooftop where she struggled to keep her moans in check, though they couldn’t do dick about the clapping of his hips meeting her ass.

Whatever brace beneath or behind her always ended up broken, walls cracked and smashed. It was a good thing they were both pulling in far more money than they had in their younger days, because a good portion of it went to repairing their home. Broken walls, shattered sinks, cracked bath, obliterated bedposts… a broken floorboard and ceiling.

The easiest part of all of it was explaining away the loud noises to their daughters and neighbors. “We live in New York City,” was a general way of saying, “This place is crazy.” Explaining it away to the repairmen was a different type of hell entirely, and MJ wasn’t sure if having Peter be so willing to take that task up for himself was a the right thing to do. She was a bragging right, _his_ bragging right… but really, was her husband casually saying that they’d fucked all over their home, and that was why it was broken half the time, a good thing?

The covers were tossed aside in favor of MJ bending over, nearly falling off the bed while Peter, with a body that she had always worshipped just as avidly, plowed into her. MJ bit her lip and chewed on the pillow, but she was intent on taking it like a good wife should. And with her face in the pillows to muffle her bit-lip moans, she was his wife, his love, and he was hers. Not Felicia’s, not Gwen’s, not any other fucking slut that thought they could come around and take him away just so they could limp in the morning.

All hers, and if that meant she could never sit down without swallowing and feeling empty, or look at a kielbasa sausage the same way again, she was fine with that. Her shithole wasn’t really a big fan of either of either choice, but that was  at least a sign that it was starting to adjust to its new purpose in life.

MJ weakly reached back and spread her fat cheeks for easier access, and just in time as Peter speared her deep. He pressed his weight into her and she sunk into their bed, a memory-foam mattress that more remembered the shape of her body getting assfucked and creamfilled up the bunghole by her husband than it did her making love with him, missionary, with a thick finish of ballsoup kludging up her pussy. 

She tapped at his thighs, hoping that maybe he’d slow down, but she doubted that. She knew her husband, and  knew that she hoped he’d cum sooner, but knew that an impossibility. Any time spent making sure she knew just how much he loved her was time as dilated as her marital cumhole, and this would be an hour long affair at least. Which is why Annie got the bad habit of going back to sleep in the morning instead of eating breakfast.

For the same reason, it was, of course, why MJ was so used to waking up so early and having him press flush against her fat cheeks. It was as routine as getting wrongholed by your husband _could_ be, even if the heavy smack of his sack, barely audible over soft _tap tap tap_ of her asscheeks was never the same.  

It was best to get it out of the way in the morning so he didn’t end up fucking her brains out by her ass in midday, so she didn’t end up creaming her panties with Spider-Man’s fat cock shoved up the hole that never got to see the sun because her husband’s dick was up it nearly all the time. If her ass had an eye, it would have been kept blinded by the twenty-third anal creampie Peter forced her to smuggle by the end of the day.

MJ whimpered, groaned throatily, and ground herself back against him with force at the feel of his balls smacking wetly against her dripping but ignored pussy. They were full of his babies, like her ass would be, which was probably for the best If this was the result of being the mother of his child, a second child wouldn’t leave Peter with enough time to save people, or work, much less blast her ass – unless he could make a living being a sperm-dispenser for her intestines.

He’d always find time for his child though, and that thought warmed her heart even as her sphincter started to warm up from the encroaching friction burn. When it became too much, and when MJ finally, corss-eyedly realized that she let her  him slide right in without so much as a how-bout-some-lube aside from his spit and the cum that was still in her ass from last night, she stretched like a cat to the night stand and grabbed a sad, almost empty bottle of lube. Peter pulled out like a well oiled machine and she squirted most of it all over her ass, missing most of it on her assmeat and feeling the rest slide in the crack of her ass, where his cock waited ominously.  Then, she shoved the tip in and squirted the rest of the lube up her pipes hard enough to crush the bottle, the cool lube more of a relief to her pipes than  her husband’s stewing load.

Even then it was enough to make her chew on her bottom lip. The sounds they were making, the sounds _she_ was making with their daughter so close by… she was cross-eyed and ass up, getting deepdickedby the love of her life, which was normal… but she was doing her best to lovingly spread her cheeks so she and her husband could make love… with her ass. Taking a fuckstick that size up the ass could only be considered an act of true love, but Peter’s way of showing his appreciation left her full and hard of sitting.

But it was a sacrifice Mary Jane, as the loving wife, had to make. She’d sacrifice not being able to say her husband lived to have his cock inside any of her willingly and lovingly offered holes, all for the sake of the city, though they probably didn’t deserve it. She was a hero now, because of her {eter, and with that came a responsibility. A responsibility to say no to never sitting or shitting straight again, saying no to never sitting down without wincing, and a succinct desire to never give into the urge to have her husband’s dick up her ass whenever she wished, just because he managed to convince her balloonknot to twitch when she looked at his crotch.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and since MJ was the Queen to Peter’s King, it was only natural that the Queen catch her King’s blown spermbank’s worth of a load right up into her stomach from the other end, right?  Even if she couldn’t move for a while afterward, whether it was wrong or not was purely due to perspective, and MJ’s perspective was clouded by her eyes rolling into the back of her head as the thick ropes of wasted baby batter tried to inseminate her anal walls, a fucked-retarded grin on her face.

She felt Peter’s muscled body pressed flush against her. He was throbbing and pulsating on instinct, intent on giving his wonderful wife yet another child, b was doing it the wrong way. Spider-Man, genius as he was, was failing at basic biology in a most spectacular way.

“You can’t make a baby by basting your wife’s shitpipe with your jizz!” Some might say. They just don’t know how determined Peter Parker could be when it came to his family, his wife, and his wife’s ass, in particular.

Of course, MJ knew, and she also knew that he was blowing his seed up her back passage like he

wanted to get her pregnant again, which she knew he did, and he’d keep trying if it meant hearing

her moan and watching her gnaw on the pillow as she cried out, her pussy on fire as he filled her

up and flushed her out before she passed out. Peter wanted a _family,_ and she doubted her body’s ability to say no to that need when she felt each and every heavy, wet, _splat_ of each string of sperm lance up her shitpipe like her husband’s cock was trying to put out the almost friction- fire he’d made.

(. . .)

That morning gave way to the afternoon. He’d left her on the bed and MJ had woken up from a nearly catatonic sleep, ass up the air, expecting to be drooling from both ends. Her pussy was downright soaked, the bed was a mess, the smell of lube and jizz heavy in their bedroom. Peter was gone, had taken their daughter to school, and MJ knew she’d be the one that needed to clean all this up, but when she started, listlessly reaching back and spooning the cum to her mouth like finger-food, she realized something.

There was a plug in her ass.

Of all the things to wake up and find in her outhole, a buttplug was not one of them. At least, not because of Peter. As loving as he was, he took an inordinate amount of pleasure in seeing his handy-work, watching her face as she dealt with the aftermatch of getting her rectum pounded out. She was the one that usually stuffed herself afterward. Both to prevent making a mess, because Peter liked having her stuffed full of his jizz at any time (somehow, she wasn’t surprised) and…  because the feel of being so stuffed full made her warm inside. It never took much for him to make her cream herself stupid, but keeping a pent up load of her husband’s cum turned her into a hair trigger, effectively making vaginal sex pointless.

The buttplug, her favorite one, was the latest in a line of them and, unfortunately, it was going to need to get replaced. It wasn’t big enough, and some of Peter’s cum had spilled out, making MJ squirm uncomfortably at the feeling as it dripped down her legs alongside her juices. Her hole winked and the plug went sideways, almost entirely sucked in and soaked in cum. With more effort than she was capable of, she crawled to the next in like, a flared, wide plug that made her swallow as much as Peter did, and started the… extraction process before going about her day.

 She ended up carrying his wasted sperm up in her shitter all day long, for her benefit. You didn’t just get an assblasting like that and go cold turkey, it was an impossibility. Her rectum had to readjust, get used to the feeling of getting stretched and being a cumpit for a bit. She had gone on patrol, but that didn’t last long. The time for readjusting was over by the end of the school day, and she’d he found a public bathroom and staked it out before skulking into it, knowing that Peter was at home playing with their daughter, waiting to show his wife some assfucking-love, and that she, herself, was about to make space for him.

She ducked into the bathroom silently and pulled down her pants, her face a mask of effort as she visibly struggled to hold it all in, her stomach churning and her knees nocked, her movements trembling with a rictus grin on her face. She had thought it was far easier having Spider-powers; they brought her and Peter closer than ever before, and she was without a doubt, his other half., which brought an instinctual, feminine pride and honor to her even as her colon started to give up the opaque ghost of assfucking’s past after holding onto it all day long. It was getting pretty tired of playing along with its owner’s bizarre need to take her husband’s sperm up where they didn’t belong.

Spider-powers didn’t help having enough semen to repopulate the world up her ass, though. Or, maybe they did and she had just reached well past the point of saturation. The ship, train, and bus for complaining had all left a while ago, and were all accurate descriptions of her husband, his cock, and what it was like to have him pull out while leaving his wasted baby batter stewing in her guts before the day was even started. What it was like to let it out was more akin to a flood.

The buttplug, thick and wide so as to stop her full thanks to her husband’s anatomy, was already failing. The smaller ones left her with a slimy mess of mislead balljuice sluicing out from her half-dollar sized shitpit, right in her costume as they swung to the next crime. If this didn’t fit anymore… Obviously, they needed a bigger plug so she MJ could keep it all inside her, lovingly.

She wrenched open a bathroom stall at the far wall with enough force tear it off its hinges and cursed. She’d settle for webbing it back herself up if it came to it, but only after she sat down. MJ pulled down her pants, her creamy thighs coming out into the open, still covered with hickeys and bite marks from Peter. She reached behind herself, fingered the stem of the plug, and let out a low whine as she yanked out the fat plug from her protesting asshole with a loud, telling _pop._

The result was immediate, and the very same fluid that had put a bun in her oven ten years prior was now leaking out of her repurposed bunghole and onto the floor, just making her day worse. There was Parker Luck… and then there was ‘Assfucked Luck’, which MJ cornered the market on thanks to her husband.

She sat down and groaned quietly to herself as it drooled out of her, stretched so completely she couldn’t even muster a push to speed the process along. She was a reluctant hostage of gravity, her husband’s sperm up her ass, her asshole’s revenge on her for letting it get stretched so much, and at the mercy of a poor, unsuspecting toilet that didn’t know any better.

She was also at a crossroads, forced to choose between webbing that damn stall door shut, or fingering herself stupid as she let the jizz drool out, or holding the buttplug in her hand. The threat of being seen while she shot her husband’s cum out of her inappropriately used hole was too much, so she made a sacrifice, as Peter had done for her sake countless times before.

She looked at the plug and the thick, gooey load stuck to it, and then the message at the bottom, a cheeky acronym of “From your friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man”, and popped it into her mouth, sucking on the would-be wasted to silence herself as she stuffed her hand between her legs and used her other to expertly bind the broken door to the stall. Her stomach and intestines still felt full and her ass still felt broken, but her mouth was full. It’d be rude to complain like that.

It was with that thought, and the thought that the day would likely end with her bouncing like Little Miss Big Butt Tuffet in her husband’s lap while he shot another inhumanly sized load of spunk up into her intestines, that she realized she was still going to go to sleep with his dick in her mouth and his balls on her chin, just so she could get some rest that wouldn’t until the next morning,

Mary Jane Watson Parker was a good wife.

 


End file.
